


Five Years to Sin

by lovexthexflash



Category: The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Alternate Universe - Victorian, Based on Book, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Smut, Westallen - Freedom
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-28
Updated: 2018-05-13
Packaged: 2019-04-29 03:43:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,582
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14464263
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lovexthexflash/pseuds/lovexthexflash
Summary: Barry Allen becomes the new viscount Tarley.  Iris is married to Eddie and now she is Lady Thawne. Nora Allen is concerned for her son and thinks that it's time for viscount Tarley to find a bride. What is more, Lady Thawne will help her with that. But how Barry will get married when he is still in love with Iris?Westallen AU fic based on "Seven Years to Sin". There are few changes, so these who read the book (I know, most of it is from the book) will find out little different story with DIFFERENT ending. I'm still writing the next chapters, but it's not sure if I write it to the end. Everything is in progress.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Lord Malcolm Allen – Viscount Tarley – Engaged to Lady Caitlin Snow.  
> Lord Barry Allen – Younger than his brother Malcolm.  
> Lady Linda is married for Wally West – Older than his sister Iris.  
> Caitlin and Iris are best friends.

**Prologue**

_Tarley_ _Residential_

_Iris and Caitlin’s dialogue:_

 

   – “I can only pray that my father will make an equally handsome choice for me.”  - said Lady Iris West.

   – “Have you set your cap for a particular gentleman?”

   – “Not entirely, no. I am still in search of the perfect combination of traits that will suit me best.” – answered Iris and looked at the three men, now talking with some seriousness. – “I should like a husband of Tarley’s station, but with Mr. Allen’s more jovial personality and Mr. Raymond’s appearance.”

   – “God willing, you will have a spouse eager to indulge you in all things. You deserve it. Cast your eye upon Lord Thawne at supper this evening. He is comely, most charming, and recently returned from his Grand Tour. You will be one of the first diamonds he meets since his return.”

   – “He would have to wait two years for my presentation.” – Iris retorted with more than a little disgruntlement.

   – “You are worth the wait. Any man of discerning taste will see that straightaway.”

   – “As if I shall have a choice in the matter, even if he was to find me intriguing.”

   Winking, Cait lowered her voice and said:

   – “Thawne is a close associate of Tarley’s. I am certain Malcolm would speak highly of him to our pater should that become necessary.”

   – “Truly?” – Iris’s shoulders wriggled with the fevered anticipation of youth. – “You must introduce us.”

   – “For a certainty.” – Cait set off with a wave. “Cast your eyes away from ne’er–do–wells until then.”

   Iris made a show of covering her eyes, but Cait expected her friend would return to her perusal of the men as soon as the opportunity presented itself.

 

* * *

 

   – “Malcolm’s tension is high.” – Barry Allen noted, dusting himself off and staring at his brother’s retreating back.

   – “You expected otherwise?” – Ronnie Raymond collected his jacket from the ground and shook off the few blades of grass clinging to the superfine. – “He gains a leg shackle tomorrow.”

   – “To the Diamond of the Season. Not such a bad fate. My mother says Helen of Troy could not have been more beautiful.”

   – “Or a marble statue more cold.”

   Barry looked at him.

   – “Beg your pardon?”

   – “That hair and creamy skin,” – Ronnie murmured. – “and those brown eyes…”

   – “Yes?”

   Raymond noted the amusement in his friend’s voice and strengthened his own:

   – “Her coloring suits her temperament perfectly,” he said briskly. “She is an ice princess, that one. Your brother had best pray she breeds quickly or risk losing his cock to frostbite.”

   – “And you had best watch your tongue,” – Barry warned, repairing his brown hair with a quick combing with both hands, “lest I take offense. Lady Caitlin is soon to be my sister–in–law.”

   Barry studied him.

   – “Have you some quarrel with her? There is an edge to your tone suggesting so.”

   – “Perhaps there is a slight sting,” he admitted gruffly, “from her failure to acknowledge me the other evening. Her cut direct was a marked difference in manner from that of her friend, Lady Iris, who is quite charming.”

   – “Yes, Iris is a delight.” – Barry’s admiring tone was so like Ronnie’s when speaking of Lady Caitlin that Ronnie raised his brows in silent inquiry. Flushing, Barry went on:

   – “Likely Caitlin did not hear you.”

   – “I was directly beside her.”

   – “On the left side? She is deaf in that ear.”

   It took him a moment to absorb the information and reply. He had not imagined any imperfections in her, although he felt some relief to know there was one. It made her more mortal and less Grecian goddess.

   – “I was not aware.”

   – “For the most part, no one takes note. Only when the noise is high, during large gatherings, does it become a hindrance.”

   – “Now I see why Tarley selected her. A wife who only half listens to rumormongers would be a blessing indeed.”

   Barry snorted and started toward the house.

   – “You really should concede defeat in our recently interrupted wrestling match. You were moments away from seeing me the victor.”

   Ronnie elbowed him in the ribs.

   – “If Malcolm had not spared you, you would be pleading for mercy now.”

   – “Ho! Shall we determine the winner with a race to the—”

   Ronnie was running before the last word was out.

 

* * *

 

 _5_ _years_ _later_ _..._

 

 _Malcolm_ _is_ _dead_ _and_ _Barry_ _became the_ _new_ _viscount_ _Tarley, Cait_ _falls_ _in_ _love_ _with_ _Ronnie,_ _they got married_ _and now they are going to their honeymoon_ _._

 

   Iris sighed and looked out the window beside her. Through the sheers that afforded some privacy, one could see the steady flow of Mayfair traffic in front of the town house, but Cait ’s attention was focused solely on her friend. Iris had matured into a beautiful young woman, lauded for her glamour and stunning brown eyes framed by thick, dark lashes. She’d once been curvier than Cait and more vivacious, but the years had tempered both traits, forging a woman who was slender as a reed and serenely elegant. Iris had acquired a reputation for notable reserve, which surprised Cait considering how charming and outgoing Lord Thawne was.

   – “You promise to write and return as soon as you are able?”  
   – “Of course. And you promise to write back.”

   – “Just bring yourself back.”

* * *

 

   – “Caitlin intends to travel to Calypso.” – Ronnie said to Barry.  – “I couldn’t say “ _no_ ” to her.”

   – “Neither can Iris – forgive me,  _Lady_ _Thawne_.”

   The last was said with difficulty. Ronnie had long suspected his friend nursed deeper feelings for Caitlin’s friend and had assumed Barry would pay his addresses. Instead, Iris West had been presented at court then immediately betrothed, breaking the hearts of many hopeful would–be swains.

 

* * *

 

   Barry Allen, Viscount Tarley, found himself in front of the Thawne house in Mayfair thirty minutes into the two-hour block of time in which Lady Thawne was known to be at home to callers. He dismounted before he could change his mind and passed the reins to the waiting footman, then took the steps up to the front door two at a time. He resisted the urge to check his cravat, which he’d styled modestly with a simple barrel knot. His anxiousness was extreme, to the point that he’d dithered over which of his waistcoats was the most attractive foil for the deep green coat he wore for her, because she had once said green was a very attractive color on his person.

   In short order, he was announced into a drawing room holding half a dozen callers. Iris sat in a butter-colored wingback in the center of the assemblage, looking as fragile and beautiful as he had ever seen her.

   – “Lord Tarley.” – she greeted, extending her hands to him without rising.

He crossed the oriental rug with swift strides and kissed the back of each slender hand.

   – “Lady Thawne. My day is brighter for having begun it in your presence.”

   His pleasure would be dimmed when he left, as if he stepped out of the sunlight and into a shadow. He believed she was made for him, so much so he’d never once contemplated marrying anyone else. In his youth, he had thought it would be perfect for the Allen brothers to marry the best friends – West and Snow, and live harmonious lives. But Joe West had nursed grander plans for his daughters, and Barry’s position as second son was not of sufficient consequence even to bear consideration.

   He’d never had a chance to have her.

   To add insult to injury, Iris was denied even a proper Season, just as her friend had been. She was betrothed almost from the moment she was presented at court.

   – “I thought you had forgotten me,” she said to him. “It has been ages since you last called.”

   – “I could never forget you.”

   Although there were nights when he prayed for such to be possible.

   Iris ooked over his shoulder with a telling glance. A moment later, an efficient servant moved a damask-upholstered wooden chair to a place beside her. The other guests returned Barry’s brisk nods of greeting with smiles and effusive welcomes.

   – “Please,” Iris said, gesturing at the chair. “Sit. Tell me everything that has transpired in your life since the last time we spoke.”

   Barry settled into the seat, his gaze ravenous as it swept over her glorious features. Her brown hair was styled fashionably, with ringlets on her forehead and hanging over her ears. She wore a lovely gown of rose pink, and her neck was adorned with a cameo secured by a thick black ribbon.

   – “I’ve come to reassure you. I got a letter saying that Lady Caitlin and Lord Raymond have arrived safely. I offered them an idea where to go to their honeymoon, because it’s nearby, so if you need her, you can visit her.”

   – “My lord.” Iris’s lovely brown eyes warmed. “You are deviously clever. I adore that trait in you.”

   Her last words caused a pang in his chest.

   – “Oh, please. I did’t do anything. Besides, they will be there for a month.”

   – “You are a godsend.” – Her smile faded. – “I miss her terribly already and she has been gone only one day. But listen to me go on so selfishly. She made a great attempt to hide it, but it was clear she anticipated the trip. In fact, she was quite eager. I should at least make an attempt to be excited for her.”

   – “That is why I came by today. I know how close you are to Lady Caitlin and how her absence will pain you. I want you to know … I am at your disposal, for whatever you require, in the interim until she returns.”

   – “You have always been so wonderful to me.” – She reached out and gently, all-too-briefly touched his forearm. An air of melancholy clung to her that disturbed him.

   – “But you have enough new burdens without adding me to the mix.”

   – “You will never be a burden to me. It is my privilege to be available to you whenever you may need me.”

   “You may live to regret that offer one day,” – she teased, brightening. – “I am certain I could devise ways to torment you with it.”

   Although her meaning was innocent, his reaction to her words was less so.

   – “Do your worst,” – he challenged in a husky voice. – “I am eager to prove myself up to the task.”

   Iris blushed.

   – “Milady.” – The butler approached with a small, beribboned box on a silver salver. He presented the gift to her.

   One of Iris ’s guests, the Marchioness of Grayson, began to tease her about secret admirers and how jealous Thawne would be, since his possessiveness over his wife was well known. He was unfashionably doting.

   Iris opened the small accompanying card first, then set it on the chair arm beside her. Barry noted that her fingers were shaking as she opened the box, revealing a jewel-encrusted broach of obvious expense. Noting the pinched look around her eyes, he glanced at the card, which had been only partially refolded. He could make out very little of the slashing scrawl, but “ _forgive me_ ” was legible enough. It tautened his jaw and sent a rush of questions through his mind.

   – “Well?” – Lady Bencott asked. – “Do not keep us in an agony of curiosity. What is it and who sent it?”

   Iris passed the gift into the countess’s waiting hand.

   – “Thawne, of course.”

   As the broach made its way around the room to much approbation, Barry thought Iris’s wide smile looked forced. Certainly she was too pale not to raise some concern.

   He excused himself, unable to bear the feeling that something was wrong in her world, and he lacked the right to do anything about it.

 

* * *

 

   Iris had just arranged the last white plume in her upswept hair when her husband entered her boudoir in a state of partial undress. His cravat hung undone around his neck, and his waistcoat was unbuttoned. Eddie was freshly bathed and shaved, if his damp hair and shadow-free jaw-line were any indication. He was undeniably handsome with his honey-hued hair and robin’s egg blue eyes. Together they formed a striking couple – he with his boundless exuberance and silken charm, and she with her mantle of reservation and faultless deportment.

   Eddie jerked his head toward her abigail, Sarah, who was smoothing out minute wrinkles in the new blue gown Iris intended to wear.

   – “I was hoping to see you in the pink with lace. It’s ravishing on you, especially with my mother’s pearls.”

   She met the maid’s gaze in the mirror and nodded, ceding to her husband’s wishes. The alternative was an argument best avoided.

   The abigail quietly and efficiently exchanged the dresses. After the pink gown had been laid out on the bed, Thawne dismissed the servant. Sarah paled and looked miserable as she left the room in haste, no doubt fearing the worst. Although there was a pattern to the escalation of Thawne’s moods, violence defied reason.

   When they were alone, he cupped Iris’s shoulders and nuzzled the tender spot beneath her ear. As his fingers kneaded, she flinched and he noticed. Stiffening, he looked at the spot he touched.

   Iris watched him in the mirror, waiting for the remorse to cross his expressive features.

   – “Did you receive my gift?” – Thawne whispered, gentling his touch over the darkening bruise marring her right shoulder blade.  

   – “Yes.” – She gestured to where it sat on the vanity in front of her. – “Thank you. It’s beautiful.”

   – “But pales in comparison to you.” – The movement of his lips tickled the shell of her ear. – “I don’t deserve you.”

   She often thought they deserved each other. It was the saddest sort of irony that Iris had once thought she and Thawne had a precious affinity. An imprint from his childhood was left on his soul, manifesting itself in ways not readily evident.

   – “How was your day?” – she asked.

   – “Long. I spent the whole of it thinking of you.” – He urged her to turn and she did, sliding carefully around on the small vanity stool so that the mirror was to her back. Eddie knelt before her, his hands moving to clasp the back of her calves. Laying his head in her lap, he said:

   – “Forgive me, my darling.”

   – “Eddie.” – she sighed.

   – “You are everything to me. No one understands me the way you do. I would be lost without you.”

   Iris touched his damp hair, running her fingers through it.

   – “You’re not yourself when you drink spirits.”

   – “I’m not,” – he agreed, rubbing his cheek against her bruised thigh. – “I can’t seem to control myself. You know I would never deliberately do anything to hurt you.”  

   They kept no liquor in any of their homes, but he easily found it elsewhere. By all accounts he was a jovial drunk, a most entertaining and amusing fellow. Until he returned home to her, where the demons plaguing him resided.

   Iris felt the wet of his tears soak through her chemise and pantalettes. Thawne lifted his head and looked at her with reddened eyes.

   – “Can you forgive me?”

   Every time he asked her the question, it became harder to answer. Eddie was most often the perfect husband. Kind and thoughtful. He spoiled her with gifts and tokens of affection, love letters and favorite treats. Eddie listened when Iris spoke and remembered anything she admired. Iris’d learned swiftly to be very careful with what she voiced a liking for, because he would attain it for her by whatever means necessary. But there were times when he was a monster.

   There was still a part of her that was madly in love with the sweet memories they’d created in the infancy of their marriage. Yet she hated him, too.

   – “My dearest Iris,” – Thawne murmured, his hands sliding up to the ties at her waist. – “Allow me to make restitution. Let me worship you, as you deserve.”

   – “My lord, please.” – Iris circled his wrists with her fingers. – “We are expected at the Grayson ball. My hair has already been arranged.”  

   – “I will not disturb it.” – he promised in the low seductive tone that had once been capable of luring her into carnal depravity in carriages and alcoves and anywhere else they could find a modicum of privacy. – “Let me.”

   Eddie looked at her with slumberous eyes. He was passion flushed and determined. When it came to his amorous inclinations, “ _no_ ” was not an answer he accepted. The few times she’d attempted it, unable to bear the thought of his hands on her again even in tenderness, he had drunk himself into furies that made her regret denying him. Then he’d take her anyway, excusing himself with the orgasms he wrung from her. After all, he reasoned, she must have been willing if she’d enjoyed it so much. She almost preferred the pain of his fists to the humiliation of her own traitorous body.

   Her pantalettes were wriggled out from under her, then slid over her stocking-clad calves and removed completely. His large hands cupped her knees and urged them apart. His breath caressed the flesh of her inner thigh.

   – “So pretty,” – he praised, parting her with questing fingers. – “So soft and sweet and as pink as a seashell.”

   The Earl of Thawne had been a gazetted rake before offering for her. He’d acquired more sexual skill with his hands, mouth, and cock than any man should have a right to. When he unleashed those talents on her body, it always betrayed her. No matter how determined she was to be angry for the sake of her own survival and mental well-being, he was more stubborn than she. Minutes or hours, it didn’t matter.

   He proved his mastery over her again now, fluttering the pointed tip of his tongue over her clitoris. She vainly fought against the pleasure with closed eyes, gritted teeth, and hands clenching the edge of the upholstered stool. When the inevitable climax shuddered through her, tears sprang to her eyes.

   – “I love you.” – he said fiercely.

   What did it say about her, that she could experience pleasure from the touch of a man who brought her such pain?

   Thawne began his sensual assault again, urging her to lean back and open herself more fully. As he pushed his tongue inside her, her mind retreated into a darkened space separate from her body. A small blessing, that. But a welcome one.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I'm little late, because I said the weekend, but the new chapter is here ;) Enjoy.

   It was after midnight when Barry vaulted down from his carriage in front of the impressive three-story, columned entrance to Gentlemen’s Club „S.T.A.R.“. He ascended the wide steps to the watered-glass double doors, which were held open by footmen liveried in black and silver. As he handed his hat and gloves to the waiting attendant, he noted the curricle-sized floral arrangement gracing a massive round table in the circular, domed foyer. Harrison Wells ad long been acknowledged as a man of impeccable taste, and his establishment remained the most exclusive in England in part due to his willingness to continuously update the décor. Wells did not follow prevailing inclinations in design; he set the standard for them.

   Directly ahead was the gaming area, which was the center of all business. From there, one could access the stairs to the fencing studio, as well as the many lovely courtesans and their private rooms. The lower floor accommodated boxing training and lessons. To the left was the bar and kitchen. To the right was Harrison Wells’s office.

   Barry crossed the black-and-white marble floor to the gaming area, then moved beyond that to the great room. The smell of leather and fragrant tobacco helped to settle nerves kept on edge since his visit with Iris the day before.

   At least that was true until the Earl of Thawne caught his eye. Seated in one of a half dozen wingbacks surrounding a low table,  Thawne laughed at something said by Lord Hartley Rathaway. Also in his circle were Lord Cisco Ramon and Lord Wally West. Barry sat down on one of the free chairs.

   – “Good evening, Tarley.” – Cisco drawled while signaling for a footman. – “Seeking escape from all the debutantes eager for your new title?”

   – “I have an increased appreciation for the toll the Season can take on an unwed peer.” – Barry ordered cognac from the waiting server, as did Thawne. The rest of the men at the table had half-full libations.

   – “Here, here.” – Hartley concurred, lifting his glass in toast.

   – “Better you than me.” – Lord Cisco said. As a second son, he enjoyed a less hunted existence; the other men at the table had wives.

   Studying Thawne, Barry wondered why the man was out carousing with friends when he should be home making amends to Iris. It was difficult for him to restrain his tongue after witnessing her unhappiness. If she had been his, he would ensure nothing marred her existence.

   The footman returned with two glasses of cognac. Eddie took an immediate drink, which brought Barry’s attention to the hand the earl wrapped around the bulbous glass. The knuckles were swollen and bruised.

   –“Engaged in fisticuffs lately, Eddie?” – he asked, before taking a drink himself.

   To his knowledge, the earl was a genial fellow who was well liked by one and all. Lauded by women for his golden good looks, easy smile, and ready charm, Thawne made it very difficult for Barry  to like him. The man seemed too blithesome, to the point of lacking any real substance. But perhaps that was what made him suit Iris, who’d once been the merriest and most enchanting woman anywhere. She was still the latter and would always be to Barry ’s mind.

   – “Pugilism.” – Eddie replied. – “An excellent sport.”

   – “Agreed. I enjoy it myself. Do you practice here?”

   – “Often. If you’re ever of a mind to practice together–”

   – “Absolutely.”– Barry interjected, relishing the possibility of championing Iris, even if he was the only one who knew his motivation. From the sight of Thawne’s knuckles, the man preferred training sans mufflers, which suited Barry perfectly in this instance.

   – “Name the time and date, and I will be there.”

   – “I shall require the betting book.” – Lord Wally called out, deliberately drawing attention.

   Eddie grinned.

   – “Spoiling for a fight, are you, Tarley? I’ve had such days. I would be happy to oblige you now.”

   Barry sized the earl up. Eddie was shorter than he. Barry had the advantage in height and arm reach. Settling more comfortably into the butter-soft leather, he said:

   – “I would prefer an early-afternoon bout. We’ll enjoy ourselves more if we are both rested and free of drink.”

   The betting book was brought to the table, which lured an audience.

An unusual appearance of somberness possessed Eddie’s features.

   – “Excellent point. This day next week, then? Three o’clock?”

   – “Perfect.”

   An anticipatory smile curved Barry ’s lips. He reached for the betting book and placed a wager on Ronnie’s behalf with odds on himself.

   It was just the sort of bet his friend would appreciate.

 

* * *

 

   When Iris saw her husband at the dining table a few hours later, Eddie looked far from afflicted. Indeed, he looked extremely fit. His smile was bright and his spirits high. He kissed her cheek when she moved to pass him en route to her chair.

   – “Kippers and eggs?” – he queried before walking over to the row of covered platters on the buffet.

   Her stomach roiled.

   –“No, thank you.”

   – “You don’t eat enough, darling.”

   – “I took toast in my room.”

   – “But you join me for breakfast anyway.” – His smile was glorious. – “You are too wonderful. How was your evening?”

   – “Unexceptional, but enjoyable all the same.”

   Iris almost dreaded these moments of normalcy. The pretense that all was right in their world, that no malevolence lurked in the darkness, that he was a wonderful husband and she a contented wife. It was like staring at a box one knew would burst open at some point and not knowing if the surprise would be terrifying or not. There was agony in the waiting.

   Her gaze strayed and moved around the room. Their home was lauded by friends for its bright cheery colors, such as the soft cream and bright blue vertical stripes she’d used on the walls of the dining room. They’d purchased the town house just before their wedding; it was to have been a fresh beginning for both of them. But now she knew how futile that hope had been. The taint was on him … in him, and he carried it with him wherever they went.

   – “I shared a drink with Tarley last night.”– Thawne said between bites. – “He was seeking refuge from the debutantes. The strain of being hunted is beginning to take its toll, I suspect.”

   Iris looked at him. The tempo of her heartbeat changed, increasing inexplicably.

   – “Oh?”

   – “I remember those days well. You saved me in more ways than you know, my love. I’m providing assistance to Tarley via a release of tension. He learned of my interest in pugilism, and we’ve agreed to a match.”

   Dear God! She knew well how swiftly Eddie could move and how relentless he could become. He couldn’t tolerate losing; it exacerbated his already overwhelming feelings of insecurity. Her stomach knotted further.

   – “A match? Between the two of you?”

   – “Would you happen to know how skilled he is in the sport?”

   Iris shook her head:

   – “He sparred with Ronnie Raymond in our youth. That’s all I know of his interest. He and I were close once, but I’ve seen little of him since you and I wed.”

   – “A wager easily won, then.”

   – “Perhaps you might suggest he consider a less learned opponent?”

   – “You fear for him, do you?” – he grinned.

   – “Caitlin thinks very highly of him.”– Iris prevaricated.

   – “Everyone does, so I gather. No need for concern, love. It’s all in good fun, I assure you.” – Glancing at one of the two footmen standing at the ready, he said. – “Lady Thawne will take buttered toast and jam.”

   Iris sighed, resigning herself to eating whether she wanted to or not.

   She was thrown unaccountably out of sorts by the thought of Barry fighting Eddie, especially when his motivation might be aggravation over choosing a proper wife. In that respect, she could be of more assistance than her husband. There was very little she didn’t know about the women of the ton, from the most established matrons to the newest debutantes. Perhaps he would accept her help. It would do her heart much good to see him content with his lot. He certainly deserved happiness.

   Eddie set his silverware atop his empty plate.

   – “I should very much enjoy squiring you about the Park this afternoon. Tell me you don’t have other plans.”

   If she had, she knew to cancel them. When Eddie wanted her time, he expected to have it. She was his wife, after all. His. Irrevocably owned until death parted them.

   Looking up from her paper, she managed a smile:

   – “A lovely thought, my lord. Thank you.”

 

* * *

 

   – “There is a bonnet in the window.” – Iris offered. – “I think it would be exquisite on you, Patty.”

   Moving toward the front of the shop, Iris reached for the aforementioned hat perched so prettily on a stand, but paused when her gaze was caught by a figure outside. Bond Street was congested with pedestrians, as usual, and yet one form caught her attention and held it.

   The man was tall and fit, elegant, with a horseman’s thighs and shoulders requiring no padding. His dark green coat and doeskin breeches were modestly adorned but clearly expensive. He had such a confident way of moving that others instinctively made way for him. The women watched him with feminine awareness; the men moved out of his path.

   As if he felt the intensity of her regard, the man turned his head toward her. Beneath the brim of his hat, Iris saw a square jaw she would know anywhere.

   _Barry_. Warmth spread through her veins, a feeling she hadn’t experienced since the first time Eddie had struck her. Something inside her had numbed that day, but it stirred now, awakening.

   Dear God! When had he become such a fine specimen of a man? When had her childhood companion left boyhood behind? When he became Lord Tarley? Or prior to that? She so rarely saw him anymore that she couldn’t pinpoint when he might have become so formidable.

   He paused as she did, a lone stationary figure in the midst of a flurry of activity. He carried himself so beautifully, so easily. Comfortable with his height in a way her husband, who was a few inches shorter, had never been.

   Iris’s hand fell to her side. Before she quite knew what she was about, she found herself outside, waiting for Barry, who weaved through traffic en route to her with graceful impatience.

   – “Good afternoon, Lord Tarley.” – she said when he reached her. She was surprised her voice was so clear and steady, when she felt fuzzy headed and shaky.

   He removed his hat, revealing rich chocolate-brown hair. With a bow, he greeted her.

   – “Lady Thawne. I am feeling most fortunate to have crossed paths with you this morning.”

   She was ridiculously pleased by the smoothly voiced platitude.

   – “The feeling is mutual.”

   Barry looked over her shoulder into the milliner’s shop.

   – “An afternoon with friends?”

   – “Yes.”

   Which meant she couldn’t speak to him about the matter weighing heavily on her mind.

   – “I must see you as soon as you can possibly spare the time. I have something I wish to discuss with you.”

   – “What is it?” – He tensed. – “Is something amiss?”

   – “I’ve heard about your wager with Eddie.”

   With brows raised, he said:

   – “I won’t hurt him. Too much.”

   – “It isn’t Thawne I worry about.” – Barry had no notion of what sleeping beast he might awaken.

   – “I cannot decide whether to be flattered by your concern or insulted by your lack of faith in my pugilistic abilities.”

   – “I cannot bear to think of you injured.”

   – “I will endeavor to protect my person on your behalf. In all fairness, however, you should know that my doing so could result in injury to your husband.”

   Had he always looked at her with such warmth in his green eyes?

   – “Eddie is physically capable of defending himself.”

   When Barry frowned at her tone, she realized she might have revealed more than she should. She deflected his concern with distraction. 

   – “I very much enjoyed your visit the other day. I do wish you would call on me more often.”

   – “I wish I could, Iris.” – His voice was low and intimate, his gaze shadowed. – “I will try.”

   They parted ways. It was with great force of will that Iris refrained from looking back over her shoulder when she returned to the shop. It was one thing to take a moment to speak to her best friend’s brother-in-law. It would be quite another to be seen ogling after him.

   When Iris returned to her companions, her sister-in-law, Lady Linda Park said:

   – “The title suits Tarley.”

   Iris nodded, knowing the grief and other burdens that came with his new station.

   – “With any luck, Patty,” – Lady Park went on. – “a new bonnet will catch his attention and secure you a fine match.”

   – “Would that I should be so fortunate.” – Patty removed yet another unflattering hat from atop her lovely blond curls. – “I have admired him for some time.”

   Iris felt a sharp pang in her chest at her friend’s dreamy tone. She told herself it was a symptom of increasing, not something far more complicated and impossible … like jealousy.

 

* * *

 

   – “You wished to see me?” – Nora Allen asked her son.

   – “Yes.” – set his quill aside and stood. – “I have a favor to ask of you. I should like you to deepen your association with Lady Thawne. Draw her into your social circle. Spend more time with her, if you would.”

   – “She is charming, of course, but there are a notable number of years between us. I am not certain our interests are aligned.”

   – “Try.”

   – “Why?”

   Leaning forward, he set his forearms on his knees.

   – “I fear something is not right with her. I need your opinion. If I am correct, you would note it straightaway.”

   – “I meant, why the interest in Lady Regmont in particular? If there is anything requiring attention, Lord Thawne will see to it. You, on the other hand, need a spouse of your own to occupy you.”

   Groaning, Barry’s head fell back and his eyes closed.

   – “Is marrying me off all anyone can think about these days? The gossip rags are rife with speculation over my intentions, and now I cannot even enjoy a respite in my own home!”

   – “Isn’t there any woman who appeals to you?”

 _Absolutely_ _._ _–_ he thought to himself. _– As you’ve so astutely surmised, I am_ _crazy_ _for another man’s wife_ _._

   Barry straightened.

   – “Enough of this. I am well. Our affairs are well. There is no need for concern in any respect. I am tired and feeling ill equipped, but I’m learning quickly, and soon all will be as second nature to me. Settle your mind, if you would, please.”

   – “So.” – Nora’s tone was resigned. – “Tell me what rouses your concern over Lady Regmont.”

   – “She is gaunt and far too pale. She seems overly delicate, both physically and otherwise. It isn’t like her. She was always vivacious … full of energy and life.”

   – “Men rarely take note of such things about their own wives, let alone another man’s.”

   Holding up his hand, he warded off further speculative admonishments.

   – “I know my place and hers. Note that I am placing this matter in your hands. My mind will be eased by your assistance, allowing me to return my focus to affairs falling within my purview.”

   And then they were silent. The silence was disturbed by his mother:

   – “Lady Thawne has a profound effect on you since you care so much for her.”

   Barry scrubbed a hand over his face.

   – “Why do women insist on ascribing deep meaning to random events?”

   – “Because we take note of life’s details, which men fail to do. That is why women are cleverer than men.” – She bared her pristinely white teeth in an overly sweet smile.

   Barry grew wary due to familiarity with that particular smile and the mischief it portended.

   – “I will see to Iris for you.” – she said in a honeyed tone. – “For a price.”

   _Right_. He knew it.

   – “What will it cost me?”

   – “You must allow me to introduce you to some suitable young ladies.”

   – “Bloody hell.” – Barry snapped. – “Can you not simply act out of the kindness of your heart?”

   – “Kindness for you. You are overworked, overtired, and underappreciated. Not surprisingly, you find yourself drawn to someone who is familiar and comfortable.”

    Realizing that arguing against her points would only work against him, Barry kept his mouth shut and pushed to his feet. Tea was most definitely not going to be sufficient for him. Malcolm’s cognac in the bookcase behind the desk was far more appealing. He approached the wall of books and bent to open one of the carved wooden cabinet doors lining the bottom row.

   – “Good that you aren’t speaking,” – she went on. – “because you should be listening. I married a Allen male and raised two more; I know precisely how you are built.”

   He’d stopped pouring at the halfway point, but decided to continue to the rim.

   – “We are built differently from other men?”

   – “Some men choose their mates with their reason, weighing the benefits and detriments in a purely analytical manner. Others – like your friend Raymond – respond to physical attractions. But Allen men choose from here” – she tapped her chest above her heart – “and once the choice is made, they are hard to dissuade.”

   – “See to Lady Thawne.”– he said grimly. – “Give her whatever counsel or sympathetic ear she may need, for as long as she may need it. In return, I will make myself available to your matchmaking.”

   Nora’s mouth curved.

   – “Done.”

 

* * *

 

   In the last few days, Mrs. Allen had been going to Thawne's house and talking to Iris. Iris was worried and shared:

   – “I feel so wretched most of the day. And I confess, I worry about the match between Eddie and Barry tomorrow. I wish there was some way to dissuade them. Eddie takes such things so seriously.”

   – “You care about Barry.”

   Iris felt a blush sweep over her cheeks. Over the past week, she’d found herself paying undue attention to Barry. She’d looked for him at events and around the city, hoping for a mere glimpse. The sharp prick of excitement she felt when she found him both exhilarated and saddened her. It was undeniable proof that her love for her husband had lost its ability to consume her. 

   – “He’s a good man.”

   – “Yes, he is.” – Nora set her cup down with a sigh. – “I must be honest with you. I have more than one reason for cultivating our friendship. Though I’m deeply grateful for assistance with my attire, I have a need for another of your skills more.”

   – “If I can help in any way, I would be honored to.”

   – “I should like your expert opinion on the debutantes who might best suit Barry Allen. Since you care for him as I do, I know you want to see him content in his marriage.”

   – “Of course.”

   Iris met the countess’s examining gaze directly, drawing upon years of Caitlin’s coaching to hide her dismay. It was unreasonable for her to wish for him to remain as he’d always been.

   – “Thank you. I hope to see him settled before the year is out.” – said Nora.

   – “That would be wonderful.” – Iris agreed softly. – “If we cannot manage sooner.”

   Iris felt terrible. Will he marry a friend of hers? Lady Spivot seemed to be interested in becoming Lord Tarley's future wife. She tried to push those feelings back. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next chapter will not be upload this soon!!


	3. Chapter 3

_The fight day_

 

   – “Beg your pardon, Lord Tarley.”

   Barry paused with his foot on the first step of Gentlemen’s Club „S.T.A.R.“ and turned his head to find a coachman standing off to the side with his hat in his hands.

   – “Yes?”

   – “My lady begs a moment of your time, if you would be so kind.”

   Looking past the coachman’s shoulder, Barry noted the hackney waiting nearby with curtains drawn over the windows. His pulse quickened with hope and expectation. The occupant could be any overly bold debutante, he supposed, but he wanted it to be Iris.

   With a nod, he acknowledged the summons and approached the equipage. He paused directly outside the door.

   – “Can I be of service?”

   – “Barry, get in, please.”

   He almost smiled, but refrained. Opening the door, he climbed in and took the squab across from Iris. Her perfume filled the enclosed space. While the sunlight was strong enough to filter through the curtains and offer enough illumination to see, the sense of illicit intimacy was overpowering.

   And surely contained entirely within his own mind.

   At least he thought so, until he saw the handkerchief she smoothed over her lap. She had given him a kerchief once before, as a sign of her maidenly esteem when he’d played at being a knight in shining armor. Ages ago. Another lifetime.

   – “Have you come to give me a token to carry into battle?” – he asked, forcing levity into his tone.

   She stared at him for a long moment, looking fragile and beautiful in a pelisse of soft green trimmed in a darker color he couldn’t quite determine in the semidarkness. She sighed.

   – “I cannot alter your mind about this, can I?”

   Her sorrowful tone prompted him to lean forward. He was struck by the change in her; the weight of unhappiness suppressed the vibrant spirit she was best known for.

   – “Why does a simple boxing match worry you so?”

   Her gloved hands clenched and unclenched in her lap.

   – “Regardless of who wins or loses, it will not end well.”

   – “Iris...”

   – “Eddie will likely begin the match playfully,” – she said without inflection. – “but as your skill becomes apparent, he will become more focused. If he cannot best you, he may succumb to his temper. Be careful should that happen. His technique will slip and he will fight to win, perhaps not cleanly.”

   A pistol’s report could not have jolted Barry more violently.

   – “I would say none of this to anyone else.” – Her chin lifted, reinforcing her quiet dignity. – “But I suspect you’ll be more deliberate in the ring. Levelheaded. You will follow the rules of the sport, and that, I fear, will preclude you from anticipating the most injurious blows.”  

   – “Succumb to his temper with whom?” – He had no right to ask, but he couldn’t withhold the question any longer. – “Are you mistreated, Iris?”

   – “Worry about you.” – she admonished, managing a smile that did little to alleviate his suspicions. – “You’re the one about to engage in fisticuffs.”

   And he was ferociously eager for that engagement to begin, more so now than just a few moments ago when he’d simply been looking forward to it. Iris held out the kerchief to him, but yanked it back when he moved to accept.

   – “You have to promise to call on me, if you want this.”

   – “Extortion.”– he said hoarsely, seeing the answer to his question in her evasion. His blood was boiling. She thought he would be deliberate and levelheaded? He was far from it.

   – “Coercion.” – Iris corrected. – “Just so that I may see for myself that you are not unduly damaged.”

   Barry’s jaw clenched against undeniable helplessness. There was no way for him to intercede. What a man did with his wife was his own affair.

   – “I promise to visit you.”

   – “Before a week is out.” – she persisted, her brown eyes narrowed in silent admonishment.

   – “Yes.” – He accepted the kerchief with fierce possessiveness. A beautifully rendered “I” in the corner made the token even more personal. – “Thank you.”

   – “Be careful. Please.”

   With a curt nod, he exited the hackney.  

 

* * *

 

_Gentlemen’s Club_ _„_ _S_ _._ _T_ _._ _A_ _._ _R_ _.“_

 

   Barry knew from the broad grin with which Eddie started the fight that the other man believed he would win. Although physical pain was the least of what the earl deserved, Barry decided humiliation would be the longer lasting punishment. He feinted around a few exploratory punches from Eddie, then channeled all his fruitless love for Iris and his hatred for her unworthy husband into a single solid blow. Lord Thawne crashed, unconscious, onto the hardwood less than a minute into the match.

 

* * *

 

   Iris’s breathing quickened as she entered her parlor. Barry stood when she swept in, his green eyes heating with masculine appreciation. She basked in that warmth, allowing it to thaw the frozen recesses of her heart.

   – “You waited the entirety of the sennight before keeping your promise to call on me.” – she accused.

   A faint tinge of sadness marred the smile he gave her.

   – “My mother suggested I wait.”

   – “Ah.” – She sat on the settee across from him. – “She is a wise woman.”

   – “She likes you.”

   – “The affection is mutual.” – Iris smoothed her skirts, feeling unaccountably nervous. – “How are you?”

   – “I’ve been half–mad with the need to ask that question of you. You spoke of some things when I last saw you. I feared I might have aggravated … that I caused you unnecessary …” – He scrubbed a hand over his face. – “Christ!”

   – “I’m well, Barry.”

   – “Are you?” – His hand fell to his lap, and his gaze sharpened. – “I should have let him win. I was too arrogant—too angry—to do so. I should have been thinking of you.”

   Iris’s heartbeat thudded in a strong, steady rhythm as if revived. In truth she felt more alive in Barry’s presence than she had in many years.

   – “You were thinking of me, were you not?”

   He tensed, then flushed.

   – “Whatever promise you made to my friend to look after me,” – Iris went on. – “I doubt she expected you to take the responsibility to such lengths. But I’m touched that you did. You didn’t answer my question about how you’re faring.”

   Barry exhaled harshly and resumed his seat.

   – “As well as can be expected, under the circumstances. I never realized how many tasks Malcolm faced. He bore them all with quiet efficiency. I have yet to figure out how he managed. He must have found more hours in the day than have been allotted to me.”

   – “He had a wife to support his efforts.”

   – “By God, if one more individual posits that a spouse will alleviate all my burdens, I cannot be held responsible for my reply.”

   Iris laughed softly, secretly and horribly pleased to hear that finding a wife was not high on Barry’s list of priorities.

   – “You don’t believe you would find a wife helpful?”

   – “I am barely keeping my own head above water. I haven’t the faintest idea of how I would care for a spouse at this time.”

   – “I want you to find a wife who will care about you. It shan’t be hard. You are very easy to adore.”

   – “If only you spoke from experience.” – he said quietly.

   – “I do, of course.”

   – “Of course.” – His beautiful mouth twisted wryly.

   – “More than I realized.” – she confessed. – “More fool I.”

   – “Iris...” – Surprise swept over his features, followed swiftly by stark despair.

   How had she missed the signs that Barry carried a tendre for her? She had been blinded by Eddie’s rakish charm and the sensual spell he wove so well. By the time they wed, she’d been desperate for the consummation of their union, aroused to a fever pitch by clandestine touches, ravenous kisses, and hotly whispered promises of boundless pleasure.

   – “We shall find you someone who loves you madly.” – she said hoarsely. – “Someone whose primary concern is your happiness and pleasure.”

   – “She would resent me after a time.”

   – “No. You will reciprocate her affections soon enough. You won’t be able to help yourself. And then you shall live in contentment ever after, as you deserve. So let’s narrow the list I assisted your mother with.”

   Iris stood, and he stood with her. Moving to the escritoire by the window, she opened it and withdrew a sheet of foolscap. She settled onto the wooden seat and opened her inkwell.

   – “You can list desirable attributes, and I will record them.”

   – “I should rather go to the tooth drawer’s.”

   She assumed her most formidable expression.

   – “Blast. Not that look, Iris, please. I thought you liked me.”

   – Tall or short?

   – Tall.

   Iris's mouth twisted as she looked down at her short legs.

   – “Eye color?”

   – “Not brown.”

   – “Hair color?”

   – “Not brown.”

   – “Right.” – _D_ _ear God_ , she wanted to cry.

   He crossed his arms and arched a brow.

   – “Have to give the gel a fighting chance. Wouldn’t be sporting otherwise.”

   Iris laughed softly.

   – “Slender or voluptuous?”

   – “Proportional is all I ask.”

   – “Any particular talents?” – she queried, glancing at him as he approached.

   He moved with such economical grace and confidence that she couldn’t stop herself from watching. Barry drew to a halt beside her, resting his arm along the top of the escritoire.

   – “Such as?”

   – “Singing? The pianoforte?”

   – “I truly don’t care about such things. I will follow your discretion.”

   Iris looked at him, her gaze taking in his smartly dressed form.

   – “Green flatters you, my lord. I can say in all honesty that no other gentleman wears the hue better.”

   His eyes sparkled.

   – “Thank you, my lady.”

   The warm pleasure on his face arrested her, freezing her in a moment weighted with impossible possibilities. She struggled to find the will to break the sudden tension and ended up with irrelevant discourse spoken in a throaty voice:

   – “I am a terrible hostess. The tea is getting cold.”

   But she didn’t move. He was close enough that she could smell the verbena from his toiletries. It mixed wonderfully with his personal scent, creating an invigorating and enticing fragrance.

   – “I don’t care.” – he murmured. – “I will enjoy the company regardless.”

   – “I danced my first waltz with you.” – she said, remembering.

   – “My feet are still recovering, I fear.”

   Her mouth fell open in exaggerated affront:

   – “I followed your lead flawlessly!”

   He grinned.

   – “Don’t you remember?” – she pressed.

   She’d wanted him to be her first public partner because she trusted him and felt safe with him. She had known he might tease her, but only good–naturedly, and he would make the whole torturous first experience fun. He’d led her so well and kept her too engaged to fret, so that she left the dance floor with a feeling of triumph. She hadn’t felt so good about herself in years.

   – “As if I could ever forget any moment when you’d been in my arms.” – he said softly.

   Clinging to those phantom feelings, she pushed to her feet so quickly, she upended the chair. She caught him by the lapels and pressed her lips to his. The kiss was swift and chaste, a show of gratitude for reminding her of the bold and vivacious girl she used to be.

   She pulled away, blushing:

   – “I’m sorry.”

   Barry stood rooted, his dark green eyes hot and avid: 

   – “I’m not.”

   He grabbed her shoulders and kissed her again. This time he was more insistent. Her lips were even more tempting than he had dared to imagine. He tasted each separately, then slid tongue between them. She responded to the kiss with a kiss, to the hunger with hectic hunger. When he penetrated inward with his tongue, her mouth dissolved and softened beneath his. That was all what Barry wanted. Closeness, warmth, affection. She kissed him as a long–lost lover who was welcoming him home.

 _Dear God_ _!_ _Dear God_ _!_

   He sipped her lips, desperate for more. Not able to pull himself away from her, he pressed her against the wall. For a long time hunger had been locked in him. He could not deny the powerful, fiery response of his body – not when his cock was throbbing in vain in his pants.

   God, he felt alive. Totally alive. The kiss shook him to the heel.

There was nothing but the feeling of her hot, flexible body against his, the taste of her lips, the scent of honeysuckle from her hair and the sound of her hasty breathing in his ears.

   She wrapped her arms around his neck. She didn’t move them anymore for the simple pleasure of knitting her fingers on his neck and passing them through his hair. He smelled so good. So usually and so manly. Besides, he seemed to burn. It was as if he was made of heat. He emitted heat through his thirsty arms, his hard chest, his lips.

   _Oh_ _,_ _his_ _lips_ _!_

   It was the most exciting, intoxicating part. He pressed her against the wall and kissed her deeper, more urgently.

   In her excitement, she pressed her chest against his, then she rubbed it, and her thigh was pressed against his hard, swollen masculinity.

   He tore his lips from hers with a groan and dared to do what he was craving. He ran his lips over her neck, biting her flesh gently with his teeth. She moaned with pleasure, buried her fingers in his hair and held him close to her.

  His body was burning for her, and he could not think of anything except to have her.Iris pressed shameless lips to his jaw, enjoying the taste and sensation of his masculine skin. Iris felt him tremble as he pushed his hand over her right breast and gently squeezed it. She made a sudden movement with the magical sensation that passed through her, and her bitterly–sweet torture only grew when he reached her chest and bowed his head to the low–cut decolletage of her dress to kiss the flesh just above the tight peak.

   _Oh, that’s wonderful_. She thought she might faint with pleasure.

   Barry moaned of the feeling of her breast's weight in his hand and her firm grain in his palm as he moved his lips to taste her ear. He sent shivers on her skin with his tongue as he cursed the fabric that prevented him from touching her everywhere. Iris covered his face with her hands as she enjoyed the sensation of his body, which pressed her against the wall. She had never felt something so incredible.

   Only vaguely aware that he was lifting the hem of the dress. He ran his hands over her naked butt, burning her skin with heat and pleasure. And before she realized what he was doing, he slipped his hand between them and gently split her smooth flesh to touch her.

   – “Oh, Barry.” – she groaned as his fingers relieved the pain in the center of her body, and she instinctively rubbed into his palm. Barry hissed out a breath between his teeth, his body fairly vibrating with tension. Iris take his hand and directed him to her bedroom:

   – “Iris…” – he said, the warning note in his tone unmistakable.

   – “What?” – All innocence, she trailed the edge of her nail against his skin, leaving a path of goose bumps behind. “No one can see us. We are all alone, just you and I. Have you not dreamed of this moment?”

   – “A thousand times,” – he replied raggedly.

   Iris arched one eyebrow.

   – “Just a thousand? Well, we will have to change that, will we not? Make love to me, Barry. Make love to me as if you never want to let me go.”

   – “This is a terrible idea,” – he said.

   – “I know,” – Iris whispered, but she didn’t move.

   On a savage oath, he pressed his lips to hers.

   There was a fire within him, burning from the inside out. The flames licked away his inhibitions. Scorched his doubts. There were no what ifs. There were no questions. There was only lust and love and Iris.

   – “Take me,” – she pleaded, breaking free to nip at his neck where his pulse fluttered. – “Take me, Barry. Here. Now.”

   Pushing his doubts aside he fell upon her, tearing the sheer fabric of her gown away to expose the thin chemise that lay beneath. Her dusky nipples were clearly visible and, gently guided by her knowing hands, he lowered his head to suckle first one and then the other until Iris cried out his name.

   With a growl Barry reared up and ripped her chemise open, tearing the delicate stays until her breasts spilled forth, her nipples already damp and glistening in the afternoon sun. She writhed beneath him, her clever fingers reaching down, down, down until she was able to slip beneath the waistband of his trousers and stroke along his hardened length.

   He trembled, his palms splaying flat across the ground as he braced himself against the heat that clutched greedily at him, threatening to spill his seed before his cock ever felt the silken wetness of her vagina.

   Barry found the core of her and easily slipped one finger inside to stroke.

   – “You’re so wet.”

   – “Ooooh, Barry… Yes… Keeping doing… Yes, just like that.”

   He joined another finger with the first, thrusting back and forth until Iris writhed beneath him, tossing her head from side to side in mindless pleasure. She strained against his hold on her wrists, frustration showing in the set of her mouth and the little line that creased her forehead. Suddenly she stiffened, her eyes slanting closed, her lips parting…

   Barry felt the heart of her vagina clenching as she teetered on the edge, but he denied her release with a low chuckle as his fingers withdrew. The power of controlling the uncontrollable surged through him like a lightening strike, and even when Iris’s eyes widened in distress and she begged him to touch her, to take her, to ravish her, he took dark delight in bringing her to the brink again and again, only to deny what she craved at the last second.

   Only when she had been reduced to mewling little pants of breath and her body was a quivering mass of unsatisfied arousal did he remove his pants and release her wrists. She was on him in an instant, her nails clawing down his back to his buttocks as her teeth found his ear and nipped painfully.

    He allowed her to roll them over until she straddled his hips, her wild mane raining down like a golden curtain as she lowered her mouth to tease his nipples. Using her tongue, she began to trace a path down his body, licking and nibbling as she went until his breathing was ragged and every muscle in his body was tensed well before she took him into her mouth.

   – “Bloody hell.” – he gasped, letting his head fall back.

   He buried his fingers in her hair, coaxing her on even as he readied himself to tear her away. With a cat licking the cream little smile she slithered up his body and the naughty things she whispered in his ear as she positioned her sex over his aching cock caused his jaw to clench and his hands to curl into fists.

   Rearing back she plunged herself upon him, her breasts bouncing as she rode him up and down. He cupped her hips, urging her on, and when she cried out and he felt her wetness clench tight around his cock he came with a shout, thrusting into her again and again, until lightening truly did seem to strike the sky and thunder rumbled in the distance.

   Iris lay sprawled across Barry’s chest, eyes closed, limbs heavy, simply listening to his heart beat. His chest rose and fell in time with his breaths.

   – “You have to go.” – Iris said, – “Soon Eddie will get home.”

   – “Yeah. Goodbye, Iris.”

   – “Goodbye, Barry.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is a little chance to write next chapter. Sorry.

**Author's Note:**

> Soon I will upload chapter 2. Please, comment.


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